


Bitter

by stringsofwords09



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 07:03:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1295848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stringsofwords09/pseuds/stringsofwords09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary observes, painfully, as Henry pushes Kenna and Bash together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bitter

\--

She sat uncomfortably on her designated chair, attempting to pay attention as her husband and King Henry argued with the diplomat, but the flat stone seat was numbing her bottom. 

“He’ll ask that you choose someone to compete with his lead commander. Archery, it’s a great favorite of his. Your son should be a formidable opponent.” 

Mary crossed her legs, trying to get comfortable. It was unlady like, but she no longer cared. Francis looked at Mary, bored, and she took his hand. She smiled at the diplomat’s compliment. Her husband was an impressive marksman. 

“You mean Francis should compete?” the King asked, narrowing his eyes. 

The advisor looked surprised. “But of course, Your Majesty. He is very skilled. I’ve seen him myself.” He nodded in appreciation at the Prince, who returned the favor. 

“While I don’t disagree with you, counselor. I have other children, equally skilled. If not more.” 

“…You mean Bash?” 

Mary tensed her back and looked up sharply at King Henry. Sebastian’s name was something rare around the French castle lately. He had not returned to the castle since the wedding. Servants whispered of him fleeing to Spain, but no word suggested he was in France… 

“Bash?” asked Francis in annoyance. “Are we going to make the Duke wait until he returns – " 

“You won’t have to wait at all.” 

They looked up, as the devil himself walked inside the throne room, boldly making his way to stand next to his father. He was mere inches away from Mary’s chair. 

It was so strange to see him, after all this time, and still feel as though he had never left. She wanted to lift her hand out and grab on to his shoulder. To reach for a slice of comfort. And to give him some as well. 

But something was _off._ A tension in his cheekbones. They were so hollow. He blinked slowly, with a dead gleam in his eyes. He stood there, closer to her than ever in the past few months. But he never before felt so far away. 

“Yes. _Sebastian._ He and his mother have returned from Paris, at my command. I plan on wedding him to my former mistress, Kenna. And since his archery skills are far superior than his little brother’s, I’ve asked him to take part in the tournament. And he’s agreed.” 

Kenna? Mary could barely breathe, the sensation of a knife at her throat was excruciating. But she couldn’t react. Not here, not now. 

Instead, Mary watched Francis carefully; there was a glimmer of a scowl, but he quickly arranged his face to a blank stare at his father. Was he bothered by news of Bash’s return, or the slight on his own archery skills? “It’s true,” he assured the advisor, his tone icy. “Bash is a more formidable opponent. 

Bash bowed to his father and Francis, and a few words were exchanged. Mary couldn’t hear any of it. Her temples throbbed. Someone was banging a gong in her head. 

“I’ll go warm up, then,” Bash said simply to his father. He nodded at Francis. Then he turned, without a glance at her direction, and left for the courtyard. 

\--

“So we are to be wed, imagine that.” 

Mary froze before the doorway from the dining hall. She peeked through a crack by the hinges, ignoring her servants behind her. Bash and Kenna stood in the hall, closer together than Mary would have liked. Kenna looked demure, her fingers linked behind her back, her eyes averted to the floor. Bash didn’t seem to mind. “I hope you’ll compare us, my father and I?” he asked the handmaiden with a smile. His eyebrows were knit together in amusement. 

Kenna looked up sharply in surprise, her mouth open in a perfect circle. Bash laughed at her, and her cheeks flamed red. “I’m joking,” he assured her, taking her hands in his. “He’s marrying us both, to tie up loose ends. But that doesn’t mean we have to suffer through it.” 

Kenna sighed. “You’re right,” she admitted. She smiled at Bash, and squeezed his hands. 

Mary couldn’t watch any longer, and walked back to the throne room. 

\--

The tournament was _wicked._ Bash's skills were extraordinary. He looked so grand, standing before the French Court. And so unaffected by the cheers in the crowd. Almost bored by it. But Mary still felt a flutter in her chest, as his red final arrow landed dead center on the target. He had won. 

She tensed as he turned toward the stands, expected to award his ribbon to a lucky lady. The need to be acknowledged by Bash bit painfully at her lip. 

Would he…? 

But no. The bastard walked past Mary, his eyes grazed hers in an almost bored fashion. He stood in front of Kenna instead, and held out his hand. 

“My lady?” he offered. The corner of his mouth curled up with the ghost of a smile. It looked so good on him. His words, magical in their usual rasp, sent a painful twinge across Mary’s chest. His voice vibrated in the air still, and Mary felt almost deaf with anger. 

“You were fantastic,” Kenna complimented Bash, and he nodded gently. “I was a little rusty, but some old skills are so well ingrained. Instinctive, almost.” His fingers brushed against Kenna’s in the exchange, and he boldly grabbed her fingers to his lips. 

Kenna looked fondly at Bash. The handmaiden’s eyes flashed up at King Henry and she graciously accepted Bash’s prize with a smile. Bash smiled back. 

And then, he looked over at Mary. She searched his face, looking for a shred of trust. It wasn’t there.

\--

**Author's Note:**

> I just don't know....  
> Ihad to get some of this out of my system if I want to be able to write anything else..


End file.
